Seven Deadly Sins
by Fool-Saint
Summary: George Huang, Elliot Stabler. Slash. A collection of short works of fiction written to the themes of each of the seven deadly sins. 2. Sloth. George and Elliot seem to never have time for anything, particularly not each other.
1. For His Own Good

For His Own Good

PG-13, Law & Order, SVU

George Huang, Elliot Stabler

Live Journal 7 Deadly Sins Prompt #7 Pride. 404 Words

George took it upon himself to fix Elliot. It never occurred to him that he might not need fixing.

I suppose I knew Elliot was never going to talk to me, but I had to try. I had convinced myself, somehow, that I could, and would, change everything; that somehow, through some action on my part, Elliot would be fine once and for all and hopefully never be the wiser.

That's not what happened. It worked for a little while, when there was precious little talking and a fair amount of sex and a great deal of secrecy about the whole affair. Sometimes though, he'd leave an emotional back door open for me to sneak through—I'm good at that—and, all in the name of Elliot's well-being, I'd tweak something.

It wasn't even very hard to do; loosen up that heartstring a little bit, tighten that loose screw a little, and be out before Elliot ever knew the difference. It was a brilliant plan and, for a while, Elliot seemed better. Naturally, it _had _to be my doing, though I suppose deep down I knew better all along. It didn't matter to me; I tried to do more for him each time. Slowly, one little adjustment at a time, I stopped helping and began to remake him into someone else, certain that I was good enough. Certain that I couldn't possibly fail.

In all my preoccupation it never occurred to me, not even for a second, that it might not work. It never occurred to me, either, that that Elliot knew what I was doing to him all along. Never, not for an instant, did I consider that Elliot might know enough about himself or that he might not agree that it was 'for his own good'.

I was so preoccupied with it all that when he finally fell apart, shouting and screaming, and hurling a framed photograph of his daughter at the wall, it took me weeks to figure out why. I spent weeks in silence, careful to avoid him unless the case absolutely demanded it, trying to figure out what I had done that had caused him to burst at the seams. I'm not sure I do even now, except that it was my fault.

I'm not sure what possessed him to forgive me; I didn't think it was in him to do, not for anyone and least of all me after what I did to him. Then again, what do I know about anyone anymore, least of all Elliot.


	2. Tomorrow Maybe

_Tomorrow, Maybe_

G. This Chapter. Law & Order, SVU

George Huang, Elliot Stabler

Live Journal 7 Deadly Sins challenge Prompt #4 Sloth. 318 Words

Elliot and George never seem to have time for much of anything at all. Time for each other falls by the wayside as life gets in the way. Again.

Elliot and I must have planned a hundred afternoons together; carefully orchestrated in our heads, as part of a thinking out loud process late at night. Designed to be meaningful, but give nothing away as Olivia seemed to be lurking around every corner even in Elliott's private life, we talked about these days out on the town meant to bring us together. We never seemed to get much past my apartment, though. Somebody's phone would always ring.

The phone would ring, the case would break, some bastard did something awful to his girlfriend or some kook did something horrific to his child and Elliot and I would vow, "Next time." In the meantime, the movie would hit DVD, the exhibit would move to another city, the show would open, and close again, once the restaurant even burned to the ground and rebuilt itself while we waited for uninterrupted time off. In the end we never grumbled or complained and we moved on to another work day or another "not tonight" until the next day off.

Inevitably though, a day rolls around every once in a while when the cell phone is silent, and someone else is taking care of the kooks and of the bastards but we never go anywhere. I hide out with Eliott in my living room, behaving in ways we shouldn't and seldom getting up at all. It was in these moments when it was easiest to crawl inside of him, but also the easiest to choose not to. It was on one of these afternoons when I decided to step away from my notes and my determination to fix Elliot Stabler the subject, on these afternoons the whole thing suddenly became easy, and enjoyable, and something that I really wanted to do.

It is these easy Sunday afternoons, the ones which promise no blood or tears or trouble, when Elliot never bothers to don a suit, that make it worth bothering with him. Especially when sometimes at work, I'm not always sure. But that's a problem I can deal with tomorrow. Maybe.


End file.
